


You're Worth Everything

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Road Trips, Canon Divergence of Season 11, Cas is too good too pure too angsty, F/F, M/M, Not-So-Accidental Therapy Sessions in the Accidental Road Trip, Shamelessly Obvious Parallels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-12 20:13:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7120906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's gone, Sam's missing, and it's all Castiel's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Worth Everything

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't understand the Spanish, hover over the underlined words, because I'm very proud of myself for doing it. Did that sound condescending? Sorry. Yeah, I was going to make this super long, but it ended up being good as a one-shot. I might possibly continue it if I ever get time, but for now, no. Thanks to Is for beta-ing(?)!!!
> 
>  **Warning** : mentions of past suicide attempts

In a fairly occupied apartment complex a few miles off the I-70 in Topeka, Kansas, Castiel appeared. Flat on his back, shaggy carpet scratching his cheeks.

The blonde woman (Angel? Demon? Shifter?) with a gun had been able to break into the Bunker, banish him, and was currently alone with Sam. Definitely hostile.

His first reaction was to call Dean.

He closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head and sitting up. What had Sam told him in the car?

_“Billie… she said next time we go out, the last time-“ his voice had broken, “we weren’t gonna make it anywhere. Not Heaven, not Hell, not even Purgatory. She said she was going to make sure she herself delivered us into the void, the nether. Dean’s gone.”_

_Dean’s gone._

Castiel put it at the back of his subconscious. There was no way for him to return, and even if there was, it was not his place to bring him back anymore.

_Dean’s gone._

Right now, his main priority was Sam. Sam, who was his best friend, his brother, just as Dean had been (Not _just_. He didn’t… Sam wasn’t-).

He had to plan. He was in Topeka, judging from the license plates hanging on the wall. Pulling up a mental map of Kansas, Castiel estimated it about three and a half hours from Lebanon, by car. By foot, as he might have to do, it would take two, three days.

No. No, he didn’t have three days. Sam would be dead by then. Father, Sam could be dead _now_.

A key clicked.

Castiel silently stood, quickly ducking into the nearest room, keeping the door slightly ajar as it had been as the lights were flipped on. Three college-aged girls walked in, one arms laden with grocery bags. She put them all on the counter, voice laced with disgust and arrogance, “I cannot believe I just watched you reach into a bag of leaves and shove them into your mouth. What the _fuck_ , Lucille?”

“It’s spinach, Mikey. Healthy? Good for your muscles?”

“Yes, but why?”

Lucille, who he assumed to be the tall brunette that was indeed holding a bag of spinach, grunted.

The last girl was locking the door behind her, dropping the keys on top of the frame and handing her coat on a hook. She started unpacking everything, not even looking up as she spoke, “Michele, you could at least try to have a salad every once in a while.”

Mikey sputtered, “ _You’re_ lecturing me on being healthy now? For the first two months I knew you, I hadn’t see you eat anything but burgers, double bacon _cheese_ burgers, Stevie! From McDonald’s!”

“It was Wendy’s,” Stevie replied calmly.

“God, I can’t believe this. You’re turning my girlfriend against me.”

“Yes,” Lucille set down the bag, moving for the TV remote, "my master plan all along.”

They continued like this, bickering, and Castiel comtemplated jumping out the window for a time before finding out this was the fifth floor. He was still too weak to heal so much. All he could think about was the gun in her hand, already starting to aim up as he was ripped away. Sam, Sam, Sam--

He didn’t even notice he had been pacing until he bumped into a cork board decorated with photos. The sliver of yellow allowed him to see half of it. Polaroid photos of a beach and a sunset. Graduation rolls, pieces of paper ripped from notebooks. A picture of the three of them, plus another girl, so Castiel could actually see.

Lucille had dimples when she smiled, arm outstretched as she took the picture. The extra was sticking her tongue out, dark skin a stark contrast to the snow surrounding them. Stevie was laughing, one hand over her mouth. Here, her hair was blonde, but now it was blue-black. Dyed it, he presumed. Michele was sandwiched between them, positively beaming, staring at Stevie instead of the camera. Her eyes were glowing, loving. Green. A very familiar, bright, bright shade of green that prompted Castiel take a step back.

_Dean’s gone_

He needed to get out. There was a window in this room. And drawers, a closet. Clothes. He could make a rope, climb out, like he’d seen in a movie he could not recall the name of.

The TV was turned on, and from the dialogue he could recall it was an episode of Orange is the New Black. Good. Lots of noise, so he didn’t have to worry about them hearing him if he was careful.

Castiel started with the closet, choosing jeans and jackets that looked sturdy enough to support his weight if he gravitated it all towards his feet. For a second, he felt guilty he was looking through their stuff.

Then he thought about what might happen if they found him and ultimately got involved with this situation and thought it best if he just pushed the feeling away.

He slowly pulled the first drawer open, but it was all intimates, unusable. The next was t-shirts, pajama bottoms, which he took some of. The last was socks, gloves, and a few scarves. He pulled at some of them to check the material, but it was all too gauzy.

Michele groaned about the lack of popcorn and Steveie took the moment and said, to Castiel’s great inconvenience, she was going to get changed while it was on pause. He didn’t waste time to push all the clothes unto the closet floor and shove himself under the bed.

He watched her bare feet pad over to the drawers, and noticed her toenails were precisely painted burgundy. She kicked off the skirt she’d been wearing to the corner, putting on a pair of flannel pants.

The springs creaked as she sat on the mattress, using her foot to pry open the sock drawer. It dipped right at his neck and he kept his head lower, thanking he didn’t actually _need_ to breathe. Michele shouted at her to hurry up because ‘Lucy’ was eating everything.

Stevie took out two socks, one dotted with clouds, the other printed with one giant pizza, and toed them on as she left. She stopped right in front of the doorknob when she caught sight of a shirt sleeve clipped by the closet. Castiel cursed.

She opened it a bit, looking down at all the clothes before closing it again and walking out, closing the door with a soft click.

Castiel stood, the only source of light the flickering purple signs outside.

Lo and behold, however, not a second after, he had a .22 caliber handgun aimed at his chest. Stevie slowly turned the safety off. Castiel put his hands up, formulating excuses, explanations. Lucille, behind her, was dialing 911 and he knew that if the police got here, he wouldn’t stand a chance of getting back to Lebanon.

He caused her battery to short circuit, his left index finger twitching. Stevie saw the movement, glancing back as Lucille dropped the now-smoking phone. Her eyes widened a fraction. Michele came in with a kitchen knife, almost dropping it.

“Christ, you weren’t kidding. I checked Sabi’s room, there’s nobody else. Can’t believe you brought Esteban out-“

“I thought we agreed we weren’t naming the gun, Michele.”

“You three agreed to that, I never-“

“A guy in a trench coat broke into your room, and you two are going to start arguing about this now?”

Their attention snapped back to him. He didn’t think they would actually shoot him, but he kept himself where he was.

There was no way around this. To them, he was a robber, murderer, worse. There was no good way to tell them, unless it was the truth, and even then they would only believe him if they were susceptible, which did not look to be in his favor.

But he was so tired of lying.

He cleared his throat, “My name is Castiel. I cannot give you a good reason for why I’m here, but know I want to leave. There was-- please. Don’t call the police.”

Stevie rose an eyebrow, “Yes, that seems perfectly reasonable. You don’t want to be in our house, yet you somehow got in through the locked door, locked it again, and hid in here.”

“I was--“

“And you raided our clothes,” she motioned at the closet.

“That was my attempt at leaving without drawing attention to the fact I had been here.”

“You were gonna _Home Alone_ it out the window, weren’t you?” Michele interrupted.

That had been the movie he’d watched. “Yes, I was.”

“Why are you here, Castiel?” Lucille said.

“I can’t explain that. Please, I need to leave. My friend--“ that didn’t give it the depth, the impact he needed, “my brother is in trouble, and I have to help him.”

“What? Breaking into the neighbor's place?”

“Sam would never--“

“Mikey, get your phone--“

He felt it this time, a small dent in his weakened grace, when he imploded the circuitry. Another yelp, another feeble thump on the carpeted floor.

Stevie pointed at it, “You did that, didn’t you? And Lucy’s too.”

Castiel said nothing.

“How?”

“Please,” he stared directly at her, “let me go.”

Lucille leaned against the wall, “I’d answer before she uses her scary voice, Castiel.”

Maybe jumping out the window would not have been such a bad idea.

There was no way they would believe him. It was stubbornness set in stone. So what he did end up doing was stupid, reckless. 

Just like everything else he did.

He lowered one hand, focusing all his leftover energy on the three of them. And, yes, again, it was incredibly stupid, but he was-- _God_ \--he was desperate.

Mind you, he didn’t show them _everything_. How could he… a human brain would not have been able to process it. But certain events, background, things relevant to the present.

Then passed out.

☆

_He's in the kitchen watching TV again. Again? He'd never left._

_The only show that's on is Daredevil, and it's stuck on the scene where the acid vats have fallen on him, burning his eyes. Silent._

_Lucifer walks in._

A shame really _, he says, drawing patterns in the dust on the table, pictures of lilies,_ Bowlegs. Dead, and all that.

 _Castiel faintly hears himself respond,_ Dean is not dead. He's gone.

 _Michele is standing in place of the table, clad in typical Winchester clothes of a jacket, flannel, and worn jeans. She put a hand on his shoulder, smiling fondly, eyes exactly like in the picture,_ Don't ever change, Cas.

I failed you,  _Castiel blinks, and he does not know why there are tears running down his face._ The vampire has Sam. I can't save him.

_~~Michele~~  Dean just looks at him, bending down and pressing his lips to Castiel's forehead, just as he'd seen in all those movies, read about in all those books. _

Don't ever change, Cas.

_He stands and Dean is gone. Dean is gone, and Sam is splayed out on the floor, riddled with bullet holes. There is no blood._

_Sam is gone._

_Dean is dead_ _._

_Castiel wishes he were too, but instead he is broken, scratched like a record, like a vase dropped by a petulant child immediately blaming it on his younger sibling, and it hurts, it hurts so much but nobody knows it hurts because he is Castiel, and nobody gives a fuck about Cas-_

Why would they?  _Lucifer yawns,_ You're expendable. Weak. A hammer. Dean once tried to kill Sam with a hammer when he was a demon, did you know that? Didn't really succeed,  _he grinned down at the body,_ but second time's a charm, I guess.

_He's backing away from a version of himself with grey eyes and mismatched socks that's screaming, screaming, screaming for him to wake up Castiel, wake up, but he really really doesn't want to just two more minutes please two more eternities because Dean is gone and Sam is gone and Cas is broken and there's absolutely fucking nothing anybody can do about it and dude what if he's dead he can't be he's an an--_

☆

"--gel, Lucy. Fuck, Cas, wake _up_!" Michele is shaking his arm, he deduced, because she is the one shouting at the top of her lungs.

He opened his eyes, and found he is right.

She made a relieved noise and falls back, pumping a fist in the air. Lucille is in his peripheral vision, standing up and going out of the room. "I'm making coffee. Mind explaining everything to him, Steph?"

It takes a second for Castiel to realize Steph is Stevie. She's sitting on the bed, feet crossed under her. He backed away and leaned up against the wall. She really does have grey eyes.

"How long was I out?"

"About half an hour."

Too much time. He needed to be on his way right  _now_.

"I'm sorry for forcing all those memories on you. But I'm hoping now you let me leave. By any chance do you know where--"

"You need to get to Lebanon, right? That's, what, few hours out?"

He nodded.

"Okay. My name is Stephanie," she holds a hand out, which he takes, "you can call me Steph, though I don't think you will. That's Michele, and out there's Lucille. I understand you probably know all that already, but actually being introduced seems more polite than eavesdropping, yes?"

He nodded.

"We're your ride out to Lebanon."

Now, he did not nod. In fact, he shook his head. "No. You are in enough danger as it is, knowing everything, which I admit was stupid of me. I just need to rent a car, find a map-"

"Renting a car around here at this time takes forever, and you probably don't even have ID. Michele knows the fastest way out because she drove out there for a photography class once." 

"But-"

Michele put a hand up, stood and sat next to Stephanie, "Look man, I understand you've got a conscience about these things. Really. But, unfortunately for you, we do too. And my Jiminy cricket is telling me that not helping you wouldn't sit right. I'm driving out. Lucy and Stevie are staying here because our other roommate's due back here tonight, and coming back to a note that says,  _Driving guy who broke into our house to Lebanon, there's a frozen pizza in the fridge!_ ain't really a good welcome home is it?"

Of course. Of course he's going to be in a car for three hours, alone, with the girl with ~~Dean's~~ green eyes. After that ~~nightmare~~  dream too.

He tried one final time, weakly, "It really is fine--"

"Lucy, make my Joe to go! You want any?" Castiel finally got to his feet, declining the offer. 

"This is all you are doing, right? Driving me there, then coming back. Not becoming hunters, not--"

Stephanie smiled softly, "I happen to love horror movies, Castiel, but I wouldn't really like my life becoming one. No, none of that."

"I don't know," Michele said, dropping an arm around her shoulders, "cross country road trips, guns, flannel? Seems very YA to me--"

"Lucille once fainted because I cut myself when cooking, and if watching horror movies with you is any consolation, you're a huge pussy."

"I--"

She kissed her quiet, once, twice, then firmly stated, "Nope. The only gun that'll ever be in this apartment is Sabrina's, and the only reason you'll ever wear flannel is because you're queer. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Michele replies in a way he can only describe as 'dopey' and leaves, cheeks cherry red.

"You'd think, after three years..." Stevie mutters and makes to follow, pointing to make sure Castiel does the same. 

Lucille was handing Michele a travel mug that said ‘My blood type’s caffeine-positive’. She dangled the keys in front of her for a second before snatching them back and muttering, “Not a scratch on her, got it?”

“You say that, but I distinctly remember buying this fat black sharpie that could possibly--“

“ _Not a scratch_.”

“Cross my heart, and hope to die, Luce,” she held her hand out and Lucille finally dropped them in her palm, immediately enveloping her in a hug afterwards. She whispered something and Michele nodded.

Stevie pecked her cheek, “Drive safe, fill up on gas, and please don’t drag race anybody.”

Michele pouted but didn’t seem especially daunted. She took a grey sweater off the hook and put one foot out the door, beckoning with her whole arm, “C’mon, Cas, off to see the wonderful wizard.”

“Good luck.” Lucille snickered.

“Castiel,” Stevie caught his arm as he started after Michele, and he wondered if the way her gaze stayed unwavering on his was why Dean constantly used to gripe him about personal space, “you are worth it. You understand that right? You understand why we’re doing this?”

He didn’t, after they saw all he’d done, but he said yes anyways.

She went sad, but just like him, accepted it, letting go. “Goodbye then. Keep my girl safe.”

“Our girl,” Lucille added one final time, “keep our girl safe.”

_Take care of Sammy._

How well had that gone?

He closed the door, not sure if he’d responded or not.

Michele was shoving the hoodie through her arms, zipping it halfway and turning back to him as she walked down the stairs, “What kinda music do you like? Please don’t say country, or I might just get you in the car then drop you off the side of the I-70.”

He caught himself thinking, maybe he should say it, just to see if she would. Better off for everybody. Instead he shrugged, “I do not really have a preference. I’m used to classic rock, but…”

“I’m in the mood for indie, something soft, in the background,” she shoved both hands in her pockets, jogging a bit faster, “because we’re definitely talking. About everything.”

“Everything?”

“You. Specifically you.”

Lucille’s precious car was a black g63 Mercedes-Benz. He knew because he had seen dozens upon dozens of different models on his search for the Continental.

Michele patted the front light of a motorcycle parked next to it, “This one’s mine. It could possibly seat us both, but seven hours, in this weather,” she dismissed it with another fond pat and clambered into the front, adjusting the seat, complaining about Lucille’s mutant giant genes.

Castiel quietly sat in shotgun, waiting for her to finish checking everything before pulling out of the parking space. She connected her phone to the car, putting on a playlist aptly labeled ‘Hhrboviquer’. A soft piano started, immediately followed by a man’s voice that she sang quietly along to.

“ _I found God, at the corner of First and Amistad, where the west, was all but won, all alone._

_Smoking his last cigarette. I said, ‘Where you been?’ He said, ‘Ask anything.’”_

Then, she seemed to remember, realize who was here with her. “Shit, Castiel, dude, I’m sor-“

“It’s fine. I like the melody.”

She turned it down anyways.

She did not drive like Dean, like the car was an extension of her person. More at Sam's care with the Impala, checking the rearview mirrors, keeping herself alert. They stopped quickly at a gas station to fill the tank up completely, and she bought a hot pocket, a big bag of chips, and a small coffee.

“I thought you already--“

“For you. Milk, two sugars, right?”

“Yes, b--“

“You like the taste. How else’ll we get through awkward pauses?”

He tried to give her money, but she said it would be an insult. He sneaked five dollars into her wallet while she was taking out the pump anyways.

Once they actually made into the I-70 and skipped a song she deemed 'hipster as fuck', Michele put the volume down until it was almost mute.

“Is it okay I call you Cas? I mean, I never asked, ‘s just ‘Castiel’ doesn’t fit right in my mouth.”

He supposed it didn’t fit right in any human mouth. It was an angel’s name. Right now…

“Yes, it’s fine.”

“Okay. Cas,” she tapped the steering wheel in tune with the beat, “there’s a lot I wanna talk about, ask you, obviously. First though, after what I saw, I feel obligated to ask: Are you okay?”

That was unexpected. He turned to look at her, immediately saying, "Of course."

She worried at her bottom lip, took a quick sip of coffee and set it back down, “I'll see if I'm getting this right. We're talking about how you let  _Satan_ possess you because you felt you weren't... aren't worth it."

Castiel fidgeted in his seat, picked at his tie and remembered when it used to be backwards. There it was again, that phrase. Worth it. The worth of something determined by how people perceived it. Just as Castiel loved his car and Dean declared it 'pimp', and not in a positive connotation.

Softer now, "Talk to me, Cas."

_I said no, Dean._

"I was under the impression," he sat up, "that when someone says they are okay, even if they don't mean it, nobody pries."

Michele pressed down on the gas, skipping a lane and merging into the US-75. "Then tell whoever gave you that impression to not quit their day job, 'cause being a mime ain't really working out for them."

 _Dean's gone_.

"Look," she glanced at him across the seats, "I get if you don't wanna talk about it. If you really don't, we'll play I Spy or something. But making people feel better stokes my huge ego so help me out here.

"That's only if you really,  _really_ don't want to."

It was strange. There was no reason for her to  _want_ to talk about it. Last time anybody wanted to know about what was going on in his head, they shoved needles into his temples. His drink had gone warm.

"Why do you care so much?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You seemed keen on stabbing me not an hour ago."

She tsked, shaking a finger at him, "Think me so narrow-minded? That was before we mind melded."

He exhaled, leaning his head back. 

"That was a joke, Cas. You really should laugh at my jokes if we're spending a road trip together." More and more like Dean every minute, every second he spent here.  _Father_ , he needed to stop. Stop trying to bring him back. Dean's gone, and two percent of the world has green eyes. It wasn't just him.

(But only he had that exact shade. Only his soul was that color human words couldn't describe, the color of loyalty, righteousness.)

"You remind me of somebody," Castiel heard himself say. Why he did, no one knows to this day, but he did, and now Michele was back on topic.

She looked at him curiously, "Hopefully not Satan."

"No, I--" he met her eyes and she broke into a wide grin. The end of his mouth couldn't help put tic up. "Another joke?"

"Yeah, I'm a regular... can't think of any good comedians, crap. Anyways, I'm offering to be Oprah right now. Again, totally your choice man, but I really wanna help you."

Castiel was sure that was code for 'you really don't have a choice'. Of course, he sensed if there had been a remote chance in her mind he would have said no, she would have dropped it by now. She did not seem the type to beg when the food's already been eaten. "Where could I begin? You've seen it all."

"Skipping the Leviathan, Purgatory, being brainwashed, falling, becoming Heaven's most wanted, and all the dying between that," she shut her eyes tightly for a second, like she couldn't believe she just said that, then remembered she was driving, "why'd you say yes?"

He squinted at a licence plate in front of him, "Again, you've seen it all."

A loud violin started playing in no connotation with the fast ballad happening on the AUX. Michele mouthed,  _This isn't over_ , before turning off the music and pressing the green button to accept the call.

"Yellow?"

" _Michele Isabella Ramirez,"_ Michele Isabella Ramirez winced,  _" por favor no me digas que, horita, en este momento, estas en el carro con el chico que entro nuestra casa."_

Suddenly, in perfect Spanish, "Sabes que no me gusta mentir, Sabi."

There was a muffled voice in the background, decidedly Lucille's, " _Oh my God. Oh my actual fucking Jesus Christ playing a harp in the Heavens above-- Lucille you did_ not _just tell me to calm down. Our Michele is currently driving to her death-- como coño are you okay with this Stephanie?! She's your goddamn girlfriend!"_

Michele made a noise at the comment about Jesus Christ, holding back laughter as she glanced at the angel in her passenger seat, "Didn't they explain it to you?"

" _Yeah. Some fuckass gave you drugs, made you see pretty demons and--_ Yes. Yes  _I_ am  _saying you're high currently."_

"Mind putting it on speaker so Cas and I can hear all three ends?"

 _"Oh, so it's_ Cas  _now, huh? Jesus_." She didn't, " _Is the pinche there right now?"_

"Si, estoy aqui."

Michele barked a laugh.

" _Ay, verda, te crees muy muy, vato. _ _Really, puta, you're laughing? Can't wait to hear that same laugh when they find your remains in a couple of weeks, bet you'll be just howling."_

Michele scoffed, "I'm delightful. I'll come back and haunt you, have my own personal version of  _Ghost_ with Stevie and screw with your mind every other day.

"Look, Sabrina the Teenage Bitch, I really love being here with you, talking about my life choices, but I was in the middle of a very important talk with Jill Monroe here--"

" _Don't make Charlie's Angels references to me at a time like this, Mikey. Dios mio."_

"Just," she pinched the bridge of her nose, "let them explain. Text me later, we'll talk when you're less bilingual. Bye, Sab--"

" _Si me cuelgas horita, Michele, te voy a \--"_

"Goingthroughatunnelcan'ttalknow," she made a crunching noise with the chip bag and colgo, dropping the phone, "She's got quite the mouth on her, don't she?"

Castiel rose an eyebrow at her, "I did not know you spoke Spanish."

"My dad's Hispanic."

"My apologies. It's just--"

"Blonde hair, not so tan," she shrugged, "yeah, I get it. I look gringa. I assure you though, I ain't."

"How--"

"Stevie once tried to kill herself, Cas."

He imagined his face looked like that time Dean had shook his arm and asked, 'Dude, did your brain just snap?'

"She'd been going through rough patch even before her dad died, and she-- well, she obviously wasn't  _fine_ but she was coping. We weren't dating then, and Lucille hadn't moved in because we still had all three rooms, so no one was there in the afternoon. Sabrina got off early, the water in the shower was running. Stevie didn't answer when she knocked. I got home to ambulances and my best friend in a gurney with inch-deep cuts in her wrists and heels. In the hospital, she told me the last time she'd talked to him, he'd kicked her out of his place for coming out. God, in my life I'd seen her cry, Cas. In my life. But that day she was sobbing and sobbing. It was terrifying. That was three years ago.

_You'd think, after three years..._

"I know you didn't do exactly what she did. But, Christ, letting the Devil possess you is just as suicidal. I felt what you felt. You have eleven kinds of depression, _hoping_ you died.  _Hoping_ he killed Amara, took himself out, and you could die for the cause alongside him. That's why you said yes, right? Because you weren't expecting anyone to come after you, to care about what you did?"

"They didn't."

She turned the stereo off completely. "Repeat?"

"They didn't care, Michele!" He didn't, couldn't find it in himself to care that he was shouting, "I came back and Dean said what I had done was  _good_ ,  _helpful_ even. But it wasn't. I knew it wasn't. It was stupid, selfish, just like ever other damn thing I do! He said letting Lucifer ride me was helpful, then he went and blew himself up, which was also my fault for mentioning the soul bomb in the first place!"

"But it's not just about Dean?" She said quietly.

He ran both hands through his hair furiously, "No. No it's not. It is the fact that after all these years I still somehow screw everything up. I try, I try so hard. I released the Leviathan into the world, ended up going mad after that. Stayed in Purgatory for a year, pushed Dean out without me to save him, and got myself turned into a marionette at Naomi's disposal. I let myself get swindled by Metatron, now that," he nodded, "that I think was my finest hour. Making every. Single. Angel. Fall from Heaven. I barely managed to clean up that mess, but, of course, without having to  _steal_ one of my sister's grace to keep me alive. I'm betrayed and hated by my entire family, which I deserve, and am banished from my home-- from  _Heaven_ because-- 

"That's not even the worst part. The worst part is that I still believe I can be redeemed. That I can go back to the Bunker, get Sam, and succeed at something, when he's probably bleeding out on the floor as we speak. And you know what's selfish about even that? I'm doing it because I want to feel like Dean can be proud of me. Because, even though he's gone, that was the last thing he ever--"

"Cas." She gently wrapped a hand around his wrist. He didn't even notice how hard he was gripping the armrest. There was a burning behind his eyes like hellfire, pounding at his head. His breath caught. On the other side of the window, stars were twinkling, ~~his brothers and sisters were comets, crashing into the ground~~ , the moon was full.

"You're not worthless. You're not expendable. You're not  _selfish_ for wanting to honor your best friend's death wish, got that? Everything you just said is complete bullshit."

That seemed counterintuitive to her purpose.

"You did all that crap, but it doesn't automatically strip you from your right to live, your right to like, hell, even  _love_ living. And why don't you? Because some assholes made you feel that way? Nobody determines your worth except yourself. You can't let others do that shit, 'cause there'll always be that dickbag that sends your cake back when you order it, just to make himself feel better over not being able to get his own."

Castiel followed the moon, "Have you ever considered becoming an author? You have a way with words."

"Could you just-- I get years upon years of having this mental state isn't gonna be solved because some chick is telling you different. But," she turned his whole body, pulling at his shoulder. They weren't Dean's eyes anymore. "I care, Cas. Stevie cares, Lucy cares, and once they explain, Sabi will too. So you're not worthless. As long as we care, and we will always, persistently, annoyingly care, you are worth  _everything._ Got it?"

He didn't want to believe. He, who once had all the faith in the world in someone he had met once before, did not want to accept what was, quite literally, being placed right in front of him. It felt... hot and cold and horrible and amazing all at once.

" _Got it?"_

"Michele--"

"You don't have to accept it completely. This takes time. Lots of it. Time and resources and shit to get sorted out. But you need to know. Now, I'll see if this is any easier for you to understand, 'cause it is for me. Cas, you are worth everything on this earth and more. Are we clear?"

The words sunk in. And maybe, without guilt, he accepted it.

"Crystal."

The moon could have been unnecessary, the way her face lit up. She smiled then relaxed back, nodding. "Alright. Good. Now, on to much less important matters," she drove sharply to the right, taking a u-turn into Highway 24, "who do I remind you of?"

☆

For the next hour or so, she asked him this between intervals of playing I Spy and Twenty Questions. She finally stopped trying, flicking a potato chip at him and calling him a dork. The night was in full force, and he put the window down, letting the wind tangle his hair. He didn't think for a while.

They stopped at a gas station for more fuel and another three bags of chips and coffee. Michele bought a pair of cheap reflective sunglasses for a dollar ("We're driving at night.") and a t-shirt that said 'Everything's bigger in Texas!' with small words on the bottom in parenthesis (if you know what I mean). "They do know we are not in Texas, right?"

"I don't think they know they're in America," she said, glancing at the two teenagers behind the counter, intently glaring at a penny on the floor for the duration of their visit, "Now put it on. Your tie's intimidating and I hate it."

After he put it on, tucking the intimidating tie into his suit, he finally understood what it meant. He imagined Dean would laugh at it.

As they left, Michele stretched her arms out in front of her, yawning, "Think you can drive for a bit? Just until the next, last, stop. I need a moment to chill, check if they've called."

He nodded.

"I'll be a backseat-shotgun driver. We're halfway there, buddy."

"Deja vu."

"God, you're a freaking sadist you know that? I did the ceremonial chip truce and everything." She flipped her phone out of her pocket and turned it back on. She hissed at the  _five_ missed calls from Stephanie and Sabrina, obscene voicemails from the ladder, and, quote, 'trillions' of texts. "She's gonna have my head for this," she groaned as she frantically dialed back.

"Stephanie or Sabrina?"

"Lucille, for getting her stuck with them. Wanna hear the meltdown, sadist, or do I keep it in my head?"

Castiel did not have to answer.

☆

Half an hour from Lebanon, Michele wakes up. "You like-liked Dean, didn't ya, Cassie?"

Her eyes were drooping, and she had bought a cheap bottle of cinnamon whiskey at the latest station, happily announcing herself a 'lightweight' before downing the whole thing. After calling Stevie and declaring her undying love several times, she fell asleep, drooling all over Lucille's precious leather.

"Excuse me," was his response, startled.

"I dunno," she yawned, "from what I saw... You gave up everything for him. Lo amabas."

As if it was as monotonous as asking about the weather

"No," he began, then shut his mouth. He was not about to debate with her when she was intoxicated, knowing how hard it is normally. Besides, did it matter anymore? Now that Dean wasn't here? "Todavia lo amo. Creeo que lo ame toda mi vida."

She started crying, "Fuck, Cas. That's really fucking sad."

Her snores almost echoed a few minutes later.

☆

They arrived in Lebanon and Castiel decided Michele would not be driving back. When he finally parked, she stumbled out of the car and immediately fell, declaring, "My legs are conspiring against me. Cas, cut 'em off."

"Could you hand me your phone please?" She threw it at him.

Stephanie was less than thrilled, " _She's drunk? Of course she is, that explains the calls. Castiel, you need to promise me she'll be back tomorrow."_

"You have my word, Stephanie," he vowed, helping Michele to sit, "she can sleep here tonight and I can send her once she feels ready in the morning."

"I can  _drive_ , babe, don't you worry--"

" _She most certainly can't,"_ Lucille yelled, just as he thought it. He put their number into his phone in case he couldn't reach Michele's and hung up.

Michele grinned in the same way she had when her girlfriend kissed her earlier, "We havin' a sleepover, Cas?"

"You're sleeping, I'm finding Sam. However, I'll be here for that time."

"Sleepover! Sleepover!"

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"All I hear is two."

"Then carry me, I can't walk."

"Two year olds usually have the ability to walk."

She latched her arms around his neck, "Carry me!"

"And I thought you were irritating sober," he grunted, throwing his coat and tie over a forearm and scooping her into his arms. He shook his blade out of his sleeve, keeping it in hand.

"You love me! You love me just like you love Dean! I cured you!"

He rolled his eyes, "Of course."

"Of course," she mocked, deepening her voice. But it was softer, somehow, lacking the edge.

Castiel expected to be able to open the door, since he was sure the blonde woman was either still there, or didn't bother to lock it when she left. He expected, he, himself, reaching out and doing it. Walking into the foyer and assessing the damage, getting Michele to the nearest bed.

The last thing he ~~wanted~~ ~~needed~~ expected was to have Dean Winchester open the door for him.

He almost dropped Michele.

"Cas?"

Dean sounded astonished, like he was the one that just came back from the dead.

Michele's head lolled to the side and she pointed at Dean, almost hitting him in the chest. Castiel thought she was going to start on the love rant again, and he would have to start the road trip back up full force, all the way to Canada.

Instead, he got:

"I got it! That's who I remind you of!"

**Author's Note:**

> Toni's actress was on Vampire Diaries. Notice the reference???? (Side note: Never actually watched vamp diaries)
> 
> Want to see what I was imagining in the car when [Cas crying](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/post/143378121307/mishas-assbutts-a)? There it is! Suffer w me!!!
> 
> ☆ Comments and Kudos are Appreciated! ☆


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